A Smattering of Chekov
by Dewy eyes
Summary: A series of drabbles and such featuring everyone's favorite navigator. No slash or pairings, just lots of friendship.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well, here goes. My very first published fanfic ever. I'll be adding on as I write more. They aren't in any particular order or timeframe. Special thanks to Nimthiriel Eruhin for lending her awesome beta skills. Please review!

Disclaimer: I don't own them; nor am I making a profit off this story.

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Drabble: First Impression

He's so young, all bright eyes and eager smile. I have a hard time believing that he's supposed to maneuver us through the unknown. Yet there he sits at the navigation console, his yellow uniform a little baggy on his gangly limbs.

I can't take my eyes off him. There's something compelling about the enthusiasm with which he chatters away to the helmsman.

Innocence and intellect juxtaposed: this is what I see in the curly-headed teenager. Even as he calculates, he gives his captain a shy smile, cheeks flushed with excitement at the new orders.

So this is Pavel Chekov.


	2. Chapter 2

Drabble: Falling

"Orbit is failing, captain," Sulu reported, panic bleeding through the edges of his controlled voice.

There was a sickening lurch, and the Enterprise yawed drunkenly.

No, Chekov's brain protested. The ship never crashes. The probability of being on a crashing starship is astronomical. This isn't possible

But as the ship began shaking violently, common sense demanded that he at least do something more than wait to wake up. Something besides pound desperately at useless buttons on an inoperable console in some futile hope that this nightmare would stop if he just hit the right buttons.

So he did. He screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

Drabble: A Job Well Done

_"It's up to you, Mr. Chekov. We're counting on you."_

The words echoing ceaselessly in his ears, the young navigator felt knots begin to tie themselves in the pit of his stomach as his nimble fingers scrambled to plot the ever-shifting course. It seemed to take eternity to maneuver each careful turn

Then, finally, they cleared the asteroid field.

The captain gave the boy his classic smirk, congratulating him. But there was something deeper to the expression this time, more than his easy confidence and lust for adventure. Kirk looked almost fatherly.

Chekov seemed to bloom under the man's proud smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Dribble: Glimpse

Glancing at Chekov in an unguarded moment, Spock suddenly found unexpected emotions breaking through the navigator's carefully composed expression: Pain. Fear. Shame. Gut-wrenching anguish. A startling rage, dark and contorted, writhing beneath them. And a desperate determination to keep it all hidden.

It seemed that Mr. Chekov was not as innocent as he seemed.


	5. Chapter 5

Drabble: Stuck

Chekov was captured. Again.

Every single time he was on an away mission, he got thrown in jail for one reason or another

This time it was because he looked at the emperor's daughter. Apparently someone forgot to tell him that looking is the same as touching in D'trfi culture. Though the princess sure hadn't had a problem scoping _him_ out.

Instead of waiting for the rescue team, it would be nice if he could free himself for once. Stealing a quick glance at the hulking guards, Chekov gave a dejected sigh.

Yeah, like that was ever going to happen.


	6. Chapter 6

Dribdrab: Stargazing

It was in a more familiar part of the galaxy in which the Enterprise passed a nebula, the first one Chekov ever saw. As soon as the navigator had learned of the phenomenon (at 2300 hours exactly) he had rushed to the observation deck to watch.

Sulu waited with him, watching the teenager bounce impatiently for nearly two hours before Chekov finally curled up on the smooth floor and fell asleep.

Close to slumber himself, Sulu pulled himself awake when he saw it, a luminous wreath hung on a backdrop of scattered stars.

"Chekov," he whispered.

Instantly the young man sprang upright.

"Ooohhh..." A sigh escaped Chekov's parted lips. His mouth was agape with childlike wonder, bands of pulsing violet light dancing across the planes of his youthful face. Awed by the dazzling beauty, the boy couldn't tear his wide eyes from the sight.

Sulu smiled gently. He wouldn't have missed this for the world.


	7. Chapter 7

Dribdrab: Secrets

He was doing it again. The teenager was full of those pouting lips and puppy dog eyes. He may have had the others fooled with his "innocence" routine, but I wasn't nearly so gullible. His young age didn't change a thing – in fact it made things worse. Chekov was good. Too good.

He had deliberately played up the accent, the speech impediment, the nationalism. I knew that wasn't him. It was the screen behind which the genius worked. Under normal circumstances the kid could've probably hidden forever. But this wasn't normal circumstances.

I saw too much of myself in him. Buried deep under the enthusiastic surface was a steely resolve, the kind that only came with experience. One way or another, I was going to draw it out of him, protect him from the pain dogging every step.

One way or another, I was going to fix him, or my name wasn't James T. Kirk.


	8. Chapter 8

Drabble: Role Model

"Darn it, Chekov, can't you hold still for two seconds?" McCoy grumbled.

"But, Doctor, I itch," he protested, continuing to squirm.

"'Course you itch. You won't hold still! You've got the chicken pox like crazy, and if you won't let me inject you, you'll never heal."

The teenager mumbled assent and forced himself to lie motionless on the biobed. The doctor quickly stuck the side of his red-blotched neck with a hypospray.

"Leave it to you to contract an extinct childhood disease," he groused. "I swear, sometimes you're as bad as Jim."

Chekov just gave him an innocent smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Ficlet: For the Record

"Please state your name."

"Joey Houston."

"Mr. Houston, what was your business on Starbase 41 the day of the fight?"

"Well, I was on my way to visit my sister on Deteros III. She just had a baby, the sweetest little girl ya ever saw, with them big eyes and all."

"Could you please give your account of the fight as you saw it?"

"Sure thing. Where ya wanna start?"

"Begin when Mr. Chekov entered the bar."

"Alright. So that kid, he came in all shy and quiet, ordered a drink and sat himself down at the table in the corner. That's where I knew trouble was startin' at."

"How could you make such a judgement? There seems to be insufficient evidence."

"I dunno. Ya hop bars, ya learn a few things, ya know? And whenever there's a quiet kid, there's trouble. An easy target, ya know?

"So anyways, this big guy's roughin' up this poor little gal. She can't be, what, twenty? Real pretty. Ain't no one noticing, except the kid. And he starts gettin' real upset."

"How were you made aware of this situation?"

"I was talkin' to him the whole time, that's how."

"You neglected to mention that Mr. Chekov had taken a seat at your table."

"It wasn't at my table. It was the one next to it. Besides, 'round that point I just stopped talkin' to him. There was gonna be trouble, and I didn't wanna be part of it."

"Again, I find your assessment to be made on incomplete analyses."

"I mean, think about it: the kid's underage, drinkin' vodka – and a strong brew at that – and he decides that he's gonna teach that guy a lesson. And this is a real big guy, all tough-lookin' and all. And of course I tell the kid that he's drunk, but, no, he won't listen."

"Given Mr. Chekov's mental and emotional status, this seems counterintuitive to his usual behavior."

"Mental status? That kid? If he's got a brain at all, I'd be surprised."

"Ensign Pavel Chekov is one of the foremost minds of the Federation. He is the youngest to ever graduate Starfleet Academy."

"Ya don't say. How old is he?"

"He is seventeen years, eight months, and four days old."

"Huh. Looks younger."

"Please return to your account of the fight."

"Oh, right. So he just bellies up to the guy and tells him to get lost. Well, that ain't gonna happen. The guy just kinda laughs at him. In a creepy sorta way, I mean. He doesn't laugh exactly, it's more like a chuckle. But it's real creepy either way.

"Then he starts toying with the poor kid. I really wanna help, ya know, but this guy, you can tell he means business. He gives everybody one o' them _looks_. Ya know, one o' those smiles that ain't a smile? He's real creepy, this guy."

"Please attempt to remain on topic."

"Oh, sorry. Just settin' the stage. Anyways, the kid says something real low I couldn't hear, but the guy sure didn't like it, 'cause he kinda steps forward, real quick-like, and grabs the kid by the collar. Then he just absolutely pummels him."

"Mr. Chekov related different information when he was returned to our custody. Are you certain your information is correct?"

"Now hold on a sec. Yer all confused. The guy doesn't pummel the kid, the kid pummels the guy."

"Ah. Please refrain from ambiguous pronoun usage in the future. It requires otherwise unnecessary clarification."

"Sorry, mister. Ya know, I thought the kid was a drunken wimp, but he was actually a pretty scrappy fighter. Ya don't see many o' those anymore. 'Least, not on Earth. Ya might see an Andorian here and there, but sure not many humans."

"Please elaborate on the aftermath of the fight."

"Well, I couldn't stay long 'cause the cops came to break up the fight, but I could tell that guy had it pretty bad."

"Do you have any other comments to add to the record?"

"Well, I got a burning question, if that counts."

"You may ask it, if you wish. I will attempt to answer to the best of my ability."

"Who the heck let the kid in without an ID?"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: So sorry for the long wait! Things have been a little crazy around here. I promise more drabbles and such soon!

Disclaimer: I kinda sorta stole this from Original Star Trek. Except, Chekov wasn't in that episode ("The Naked Time" – I highly recommend). Which is why this had to happen. And I really and truly don't own this. I totally wish I did, but I don't.

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_Ficlet: The Polywater Incident (Or, Why Approaching a Shirtless Helmsman from Behind is a Bad Idea)_

Chekov was on his way down to Engineering when he happened upon Sulu.

The man was just standing there, bare-chested, in the middle of the otherwise deserted corridor. Chekov wasn't really sure what that was about. After all, the helmsman had just come back from an away mission to an arctic planet a couple hours ago. Usually he would put on a sweater after something like that. Very strange. But then, Sulu was a strange guy.

Dismissing the odd behavior, Chekov approached him. "Hey, Hikaru!" he called. "How was the mission?"

The man turned to him with an unsettling grin. Something about his demeanor was off. If he hadn't know better, Chekov would've said he was a bit touched in the head.

Suddenly, one of Sulu's fencing foils appeared in his hand as if from nowhere. "Defend yourself!" he cried, waving it about.

"Um," Chekov began, but was cut off by a wild swing of the sword that barely clipped his earlobe. Dodging out of range, he touched his ear, drawing his hand away with a glistening red droplet on a fingertip.

"We duel to the death!" exclaimed Sulu, brandishing the foil with zeal.

"I would rather not," he replied, figuring this was just the result of another undiscovered phenomenon that space was bound to throw at them. Either that, or he was really drunk. He slowly reached for his communicator, only to have it be plucked from his belt in a lightning move.

"No escape for you," Sulu grinned, holding the communicator loosely in his hand. "You either leave this place bloodied, or with my blood on your sword."

Yeah, he wasn't drunk if he could move like that. "I'm already bloodied," the navigator countered. "And I don't have a sword."

That seemed to stump him for a moment, and Chekov's mind scrambled to formulate a plan. His eyes flicked across the hall, hoping to find a handy exit, but coming up short. So he kept talking.

"It's not very honorable to go after an unarmed man," he said, surreptitiously eyeing his communicator. "And honor is what makes the man, yes?"

Sulu squinted in confusion. "Don't want to be dishonorable..."

"Good, good, that's a start," Chekov responded, trying to sound encouraging. There were wall-mounted communicators scattered around the ship, weren't there? The nearest one was–

"But the ends justify the means, don't they?" Sulu interrupted his thoughts. "Didn't Confucius say that? Or maybe it was Socrates."

"Neither of them were samurai, though, " he objected. He tried to picture a map of the deck. Maybe there was one down the hallway.

"Who cares? It's good advice." The helmsman flung his arms out carelessly in a 'whatever' motion. The foil clinked against the wall, catching the man's attention.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Chekov quickly grabbed for the handle of the foil and yanked it out of his hand.

"Hey!" Sulu protested with a scowl. "I was using that!"

"You nearly cut my ear off! I don't think that counts as proper use of a fencing sword."

The helmsman glared at him for a moment. "You're just jealous. You don't even know how to hold it properly."

"Uh-huh," he said without really listening. "Now, give me my communicator."

"Not unless you give my foil back," countered Sulu.

"No way. You're going to hurt me again."

"No, I won't," Sulu said with a frown. "I promise. Now give it back."

Chekov shook his head.

"C'mon, Pasha," he cajoled, using the teenager's nickname.

"I am going to be very careful with it," he told the helmsman.

"I'm freakin' serious, Chekov. Give me my foil back _now_."

"Hikaru–"

"**Now**."

Chekov flinched at the intensity of the anger in the man's voice. He was clearly under some sort of influence, and there was no way he was giving the foil back to him in this condition. But if he didn't, Sulu might attack him and force it out of his hands. Then he'd be in an even worse situation.

Eyeing the man warily, Chekov nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll give you your foil back. But you must give me my comm first."

"That's not fair," he protested.

"It's either that, or I take it by force."

Sulu laughed. "You? Take something by force? That's kind of funny."

"I am not joking."

His brow furrowed. "You really are serious, aren't you? You really think you can take me?"

"Yes," Chekov said confidently. "I really do."

"But that would be dishonorable, since I am unarmed."

"If we went to the gym, we could each get a foil and fence like men."

Sulu lit up. "Hey, you're right! See, this is why I need you around, because you're the genius!"

"Um, okay. If you say so."

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This might actually end up as a two-shot, if you guys want more on this story.


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